


You've Got a Friend

by couchbarnacle



Series: Pave the Way Series [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitter!Sherlock, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid!Fic, Kid!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:39:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couchbarnacle/pseuds/couchbarnacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock tries to straighten himself out a bit. It takes some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got a Friend

**Author's Note:**

> On a completely unrelated note, can someone tell me if there is something wonkity with tumblr right now or if it's just my computer!?!??! Thanks. xoxo

“Watson, John,” The lady called out firmly.

“Here,” John responded quietly.

“See me after class, won’t you?” She asked kindly.

“Alright,” John said quietly.

He was just finishing up his first class in Maths and he walked slowly to the front of the classroom to stand awkwardly in front of his teacher.

“How has your day been going?” She asked, kindly, “I find that everyone’s first day here is a bit of a shock.”

“It’s been alright,” John shrugged, “I get told a lot of things.”

“Yes,” She grinned, nicely, “It can be quite striking to have so many things decided for you. Do you know why that is?”

“No,” John answered honestly.

“The point of this school, John,” She answered succinctly, “Is to provide you with an opportunity to flourish in the best possible environment. We provide the clothing, the bedding, the meals, the afterschool activities and that leaves you to be able to focus on developing your character, your strengths, and the strong bonds between you and your classmates.”

John nodded in understanding.

“You seem like a very intelligent young man, John,” She said with a smile, “I think you’ll do very well here.”

“Thanks,” John answered with a blush.

“Alright, off with you now,” She said with a shooing motion, “You’ll be late for Rugby practice.”

000000000000000000

“Well, that was a valiant effort,” Mycroft drawled, standing next to Sherlock’s hospital bed.

“Fuck off,” Sherlock said wincing at the bright lights that were sending stabs of pain right into his brain.

“No, really,” Mycroft continued, “Well done. If your goal was to consume the most cocaine in a single sitting then you can claim victory quite proudly.”

“Just get the doctor so I can get discharged and get the hell out of here,” Sherlock growled.

“I’m afraid that that is not possible,” Mycroft said dusting off his cuffs delicately.

“Forget how to use your fine motor skills again?” Sherlock said lamely. His head was pulsing with waves of sharp pain.

“You’re being sectioned,” Mycroft said with a sad grin.

“No,” Sherlock answered firmly.

“Yes,” Mycroft countered, “At least a seventy-two hour watch.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Sherlock answered back.

“Oh, dear,” Mycroft replied with faux concern, “Well, there was that suicide note that was found on your person when you arrived.”

Sherlock stared at his brother in shock. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t. This wasn’t possible.

“You forged a suicide note?” Sherlock gasped in shock.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mycroft sniffed.

“There is no way that you’re getting away with this,” Sherlock said heatedly, “I’ll tell Mummy.”

“Don’t worry, Sherlock,” Mycroft rolled his eyes, “She’s aware of the ruse. I wouldn’t want to cause her any more pain than you already have.”

“She can’t be okay with this!” Sherlock practically shouted, “Where is she? Get her in here. I’ll talk some sense into her.”

“Sorry, dear brother,” Mycroft said evenly, “Mummy is currently researching rehabilitation clinics. She’s incredibly busy at the moment.”

“I’ll tell Father,” Sherlock tried again.

“He’s still in Tokyo,” Mycroft answered, “For the foreseeable future, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” Sherlock said darkly.

“Don’t worry,” Mycroft answered angrily, “I doubt I’ll forgive you for this little stunt.”

“How long?” Sherlock asked.

“Most programs are 18 months long,” Mycroft replied, “But that will depend entirely on your progress and do remember Sherlock, that any escape will only restart the program all over again.”

“Give me your phone,” Sherlock said impatiently, “I have to call John.”

“No,” Mycroft said sounding disgusted.

“I’m not kidding, Mycroft,” Sherlock said heatedly, “Your phone. Now.”

“And I said no,” Mycroft snapped, “That boy worships the ground you walk on. And as human and flawed as I know that you are, I refuse to allow you to show him this lovely side of yourself.”

“He’ll be concerned,” Sherlock pleaded, “We haven’t spoken for months and I don’t know when I’ll be able to speak to him again.”

“That’s not my problem,” Mycroft shrugged, “You made this mess. These are your consequences. Don’t you dare try and bring a little boy into this disaster you’ve brought down around us.”

“He matters, Mycroft,” Sherlock begged, “Please. Don’t let him think I’ve abandoned him.”

“Then get better,” Mycroft countered, “And prove it.”

000000000000000

John was going down the aisles of Tesco carefully going through the list his mum had written out for him. It was Mum’s birthday and Tom had come up with the idea of him and John cooking Mum’s favorite meal which really was a very good idea except for the fact that John couldn’t cook to save his life so this was going to be a very interesting meal. They had most of the ingredients at the house but there were a few odds and ends that John needed to purchase at the store. He’d get her some flowers to make up for the disaster that was going to be dinner. He was trying to twisty tie some pistachios up in a bag when he heard someone call his name loudly.

“John!” The voice called out to him again and he whipped around before he was practically picked up off the ground and crushed to a taller man’s chest with a brute force that made his ribs creak.

“Sherlock?” John asked tentatively against the wool smashed against his cheek.

He let himself be pulled back and held by his shoulders as the taller man scanned his face for several seconds. Sherlock looked…umm…he couldn’t say well, exactly. He was almost unhealthily skinny with waxy features and great big circles under his eyes. He watched the manic grin falter slightly in the face of John’s stoic silence before Sherlock gave his shoulders one more squeeze and stepped out of his personal space.

“You don’t look happy to see me,” Sherlock said quietly.

“Just surprised, I guess,” John said evenly.

“Yes, well,” Sherlock coughed awkwardly, “How long has it been? Four years?”

“Sounds about right,” John said, glancing around awkwardly, “Well, it was nice to see you but I’d better be going.”

“Wait!” Sherlock called out brokenly as John began to turn and walk away, “Coffee?”

“I can’t really,” John shuffled uncomfortably, “It’s Mum’s birthday and I’m helping Tom make her dinner.”

“Just for a few minutes,” Sherlock almost pleaded, “It’s been forever since we’ve talked.”

John glanced at his watch. He did have time. Tom wasn’t scheduled to pick him up for the next forty-five minutes and he’d planned on getting a coffee and waiting anyway…

“Alright,” John answered quietly, “I just have to buy these first.”

John made a quick stop in the tea aisle before checking out. He tried to ignore the way Sherlock practically hovered silently at his back as he used one of those bloody chip and pin machines. Sherlock maintained his vulture-like gaze until they were at the counter of the coffee house. Sherlock quickly paid for John’s order and the shorter boy shrugged before heading toward a table. Sherlock sat down across from him and began studying his face again. The strange, wordless assessment continued until the server brought over their drinks and left them to it.

“So…” John began clumsily, “How’s your mum?”

“Adequate,” Sherlock said dismissively, “You like it, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?” John asked, confused.

“Military school,” Sherlock said quickly, “You like it. You’re doing well there. I’d say top ten percent of your class. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” John answered.

“You’re playing a sport as well,” Sherlock continued, “Rugby going by your posture and the muscle development in your shoulders and back.”

“Spot on,” John answered, feeling a familiar painful tug in his chest.

“That’s surprising,” Sherlock said quietly, to himself.

“What?” John said feeling his anger spike a bit, “Surprised that I can get along well without you around?”

He watched Sherlock’s face contort in a painful grimace before smoothing out again.

“I’m sorry,” John said quickly, “That was unnecessary.”

“No,” Sherlock said quietly, “No. I understand that you might be…upset…about how our friendship stalled over the past four years.”

“Stalled?” John asked, “Sherlock, you disappeared. For four years. Without so much as a goodbye.”

“Ah,” Sherlock said, “I can explain that. You see…”

“I mean, I get that I was some pathetic little kid that you were just sick of spending time with,” John talked over him, letting the pain that had gripped him that first year dribble out of him like poison from a wound, “But you could have at least said that to my face. And you don’t have to pretend now like you still care.”

“John,” Sherlock tried again, “You don’t understand…”

“I mean, I wasn’t oblivious,” John continued, “Your mum and mine refused to tell me anything about you when they got together. It was pretty obvious that you’d finally had enough of some kid trailing after you like a complete idiot.”

“John!” Sherlock said firmly, cutting through the spewing of painful, self-effacing statements from the young man, “I was in rehab!”

John felt his brain short-circuit momentarily and he stared open-mouthed at the older man, “What?”

“I was in rehab,” Sherlock began to spout off hurriedly, “The week after you called me, I overdosed on cocaine and then Mycroft got me sectioned and then I went into a rehab program and then it didn’t stick and I relapsed again and I tried the program again and then I gave up and spent a year in Hong Kong and I finally came home about a month ago and I’ve been going through withdrawal at home because the rehab programs are incredibly dull and unhelpful and Mummy promised me that she’d let me try to get clean at home if I just came home so I did. And I didn’t call you because this wasn’t your problem and I didn’t want you to see me like this and I didn’t want you to remember me like this because you mean so much to me. Your good opinion means so much to me and I’m sorry but I thought you’d be better off without me but then I saw you and I just had to talk to you again and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

John stared in shock as Sherlock began to panic a bit and started hyperventilating. John quickly slid his chair over to the taller man, “Calm down. Put your head between your legs.”

He guided Sherlock down and rubbed his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

“Breathe deeply,” John said firmly, “That’s it. Deep breaths. In…and hold it…and out. Take your time. Feel your heart beat slow down. You’re fine.”

John continued whispering nonsense words as Sherlock began to relax his tense muscles.

“Better?” John asked quietly as Sherlock pushed himself up to lean against the back of the chair.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock whispered, “That was…unexpected…”

“It’s alright,” John answered, truthfully, “One of my mates at school has panic attacks.”

“It’s really not alright,” Sherlock said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

“It sounds like you were a little busy,” John answered.

“Don’t do that,” Sherlock said, “Don’t do that thing where you make excuses for other people’s bad behavior. I’m sorry, John. What I did was wrong and there’s no excuse for it.”

John sat silently for several minutes as he let Sherlock’s words wash over him.

“Are you better?” John asked quietly, “Are you done with the drugs?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock sighed, “I don’t think I’ll ever be sure that I’ll never try them again. But I want to be done with them so badly.”

“Come on,” John said softly, “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Sherlock asked confused.

“To Mum’s party,” John said simply.

“I don’t think…” Sherlock began.

“Nonsense,” John said simply, “You’re as much a part of my family as Harry. I want you there.”

Sherlock seemed to stare at John with a strange, fixated look for several seconds before he smiled brightly.

“I’d be honored,” Sherlock said earnestly.

“Good,” John said, feeling a swelling of warmth in his chest, “Because I haven’t the faintest idea how to make gnocchi and you’re going to help me.”

Sherlock’s laugh sent a jolt of electricity through John that felt so real and true that John couldn’t help but smile back. He felt as if a part of him that had been lost had suddenly returned. He felt whole.

**Author's Note:**

> How do we think Tom will react when John brings Sherlock home?


End file.
